Prom Night
by MachGirl
Summary: Sequel to "Distracted." This time it's Trixie's POV again. Prom night is fast aproaching, and who can blame her for wanting to go? Problem. Speed's first track race is the same night. Now what? MOVIEVERSE
1. Fairy Tales

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing  
Speed Racer is a trademark of Speed Racer Enterprises Inc.  
I'd like to own Emile Hirsch, but no one's put him on Ebay, dang it!

* * *

When I was a young girl, my grandmother always used to tell me that things get worse before they get better. Slay the dragon; _then _get the happy ending. I suppose she was right, because living with the Racers was the closes thing to the best as I could get. One look into Speed's eyes in the morning could tell me that.

But things weren't always so great: like in sophomore year when he asked _Twinkle Banks _to the semi-formal instead of me. And, in junior year, when I got kicked out of my parents' house. I will attest that those experiences were less than enjoyable.

None of that mattered now, however. I, Patricia "Trixie" Shimura was the one-and-only (unless he had a death wish) girlfriend of Gregory "Speed" Racer. We had been official for little more than a month. Being able to know he felt as deeply for me as I for him was an indescribable joy. Mind you, I had been his _girl friend_ for nearly nine years before we became an item, and _known _him for thirteen.

I remember the first time I saw Speed rather vividly. It was back in our Kindergarten days. Momma and Dad had driven me to school in a black BMW. I was wearing a little pink backpack with a nondescript princess on it whom my parents claimed was Cinderella. I was wearing little red croc shoes and a white polo shirt with a ascot wrapped around the collar. It was held in place with a teddy bear head ornament.

"You be good, Patricia," said my mother. "We'll be here at one to pick you up."

"I love you!" I squeaked.

"We love you, too, sweetie," said Momma. I blew them a kiss and off they went, the black paint of the car gleaming in the bright sunlight. Once they were too far up the street for me to see them anymore, I looked to the other cars in front of the Annville Elementary School, scouting out the other kids.

Up to the curb pulled a little red car. Four people were inside: a mom, a dad, a young boy my age wearing a helmet, and another, older boy. I assumed it was their older son. The son my age, however, was the only one I cared about. I had determined already, after one look, that I was going to marry him. Only, back then, my vision had me with longer hair and him still wearing the helmet.

"I'm not getting out," squeaked the little boy. It wasn't a protest; it was a statement of pure fact. His mother got out of the passenger seat and click-clacked her high heels over to the door. She gently opened it and grabbed the boy's hands, "Honey, you have to go."

"I'm not going," he shook his head.

"It'll be fun!" she tried to assure him. "Sweetie, don't you want to meet other kids your age?"

"Nope."

"He doesn't need other kids," said the older boy. "Little bro's got me!"

"That's right!" the boy said happily. "I've got Rex!"

"Rex, sweetie, you're not helping," said the mother. Rex snorted. She turned back to the youngest, "Rex has to go to school, too. Now come on."

"Listen to your mother, Speed," muttered the father from the front seat.

"No," said Speed.

"Honey, you're being downright difficult!" said the mother. She pulled Speed out from his legs. He latched onto the car door and started to whine, "WAAAAAAH-HAAAA!"

His mother, out of shock, dropped him. He ran back into the car and crossed his arms, repeating, "Not going." The mother clenched her fists, sobbed from frustration, and finally gave up, "Fine!" She went back into the passenger seat of the car.

"But you're going tomorrow," she told him.

"Nope," he said.

The doors closed, and they drove back home. The last thing I heard was Rex saying, "Way to win 'em over, little bro!"

With a bit of a disappointed sigh, I went into the school building.

He was back the next day, and that time, he did get out of the car ... and right into a little soapbox car his father had made for him. I thought it was positively adorable. My father was head of a car company, so I, too, was surrounded by automobiles as a child.

I didn't gain my confidence streak until about third grade, and that was when we were formally introduced, but I ha already had my sights set on Speed Racer. Now that it was official and he liked me back, I didn't know what to do with myself!

_Maybe I should build myself a time machine and tell five-year-old me about this, _I once thought to myself.


	2. Dating Dilemmas

The only shock that had come to our classmates when I began gushing about my new boyfriend was ... that we hadn't been together before. It is in the mind of peers shockingly early that boys and girls cannot be friends without being in love. Since third grade, I'd heard every version of the "Sitting in a Tree" song imaginable. … And some of them were pretty graphic …

But I digress. It was a discovery of epic proportions for our senior class that Speed and I only had a romantic relationship for a month. Exhibit A) The yearbook.

Now, I never got the yearbook back when I was in elementary school, and I'd left all the high school ones with my parents in junior year. The senior would be the only yearbook I could have. So, in February of that year I ordered one and, naturally, so did the Racers. Not that Speed wanted one … _they_ did.

They came in May.

"Yearbooks!" called one of the student council members one day in homeroom. She pulled out order forms and handed the hardcover, gray books.

"Trixie Shimura!" she called. I hopped over an empty seat next to me and went to the front of the room.

"Speed Racer!" yelled the girl. He joined me at the front. She gave us both our books and said, "Congrats."

'Congrats?' That wasn't usual 'here's your yearbook' talk, was it? I looked at Speed. He shrugged, rolled his eyes and started to flip through the book. Speed didn't know--or _care_--how half the things at school worked. He barely understood his schoolwork.

I, too, opened the book, savoring the sound of the first strain of the binding. It had that smell I always associated with gloss paper and shined under the florescent lights. I carefully turned the first page. It read: "_We've Only Just Begun_."

"Hey!" called Speed. "We're in here!"

"Well, we _are_ seniors, Speed," said I.

"No!" he yelled. "I mean ..." but he apparently couldn't articulate what he meant, because he came over and showed me the page he was referring to.

"What are you--?" I asked. He pointed frantically to the page. I looked down. It was a huge picture of us, taking up the whole page. On the top it said "Cutest Couple: Speed Racer and Trixie Shimura"

"Seriously?!" I asked. I remembered back in December when the ballots came around for us to vote for the title of Cutest Couple, the winners of which would be announced in the yearbook. Speed and I saw our names and immediately demanded--not ask, not request, DEMANDED--they take our names off.

"We're not a couple," we had said.

"Are you sure?" asked the head of the committee. "The general consensus around here is that you are."

"I don't give a damn about the general consensus!" snorted Speed. "I know my own love life!" To himself he muttered, "I'm batting 0."

"And something like this," I picked up the ballot, "isn't healthy for a platonic relationship such as ours!"

"Sure," said the committee head. "Well, if you win, we'll just give it to the runner-up, how about that?" We agreed that would be okay, and Speed and I figured that would be the end of it.

Obviously not.

"I guess that whole conversation we had slipped over her head, huh?" I asked him, staring at our picture. It was a rather cute one. I was riding on his back and he was attempting not to drop me. It had been taken sometime while I was working on the set for the school play, as was demonstrated by the paint on my arms.

"We must rule!" exclaimed Speed.

"What?" I asked.

"We're so good together, we can win awards without being a couple!" he explained. "FOR being a couple."

"I wonder who we stole this title from," I thought out loud.

"We so deserved this," Speed joked. "I am totally adorable ..." With a glance at my incredulous face he added, "and you're pretty cute, too." I stuck out my tongue and shoved his arm. We laughed together for a moment, until the bell rang for us to go to our next class. We shut our yearbooks.

"I can't wait to tell Mom and Pops about this," he chortled. "Mom will probably want to rip it out and frame it."

"And you don't?"

"Erm--of course..." he said, figuring that was what I wanted him to. I shook my head, opened the door and sighed, "I'll see you at home, Tiger."

"Don't forget, we're going down to Thunderhead so I can practice!" he called after me. I nodded forcefully. This practice was all he'd talked about for three days. Pops had finally built Speed a T-180 car, so now he could compete in track races. The way Speed spoke about it, you would have thought he'd found the Fountain of Youth.

"I'll be there," I said, giving him the thumbs up. I took a right turn and walked down the hall. He went down the staircase.

"Cutest Couple," I said to myself. More often than not, the Cutest Couple at our school would win the Prom King and Queen titles. I looked to my right. The banner for Prom, in psychedelic colors, was right beside me.

"Spring Ball: May 27th!" it read. I clapped my hands together. That was less than two weeks away. I'd have to bring it up with Speed. Maybe during his practice run...

But, of course, give with one hand, take with the other!

Only two hours after school, I was sitting in the stands at Thunderhead, next to Speed's little brother Spritle, who was now always accompanied by his pet monkey, Chim-Chim.

That chimp slightly scared me. Once, at breakfast, he'd grabbed by left breast with the force only an animal or an angry child could have. Unfortunately, the entire family was busy eating, and no one was paying attention to my predicament. Finally I had to yelp, "Help me!" Speed got him off and smacked Spritle on the back of the head, telling him to control his pet. Now I refused to sit next to the monkey.

My eyes flickered occasionally from the track to my English binder in my lap. As much as I loved watching Speed drive—and that was very much—I had a paper due next week on Oedipus Rex, and I was hoping to start it early. Dreams of that were dashed, however, when I looked down and noticed I had written, "Oedipus was foolish for LOOK OUT, SPEED!!!"

"I'm pretty sure that wasn't in the play," I sighed to myself. I crossed out the capitalized words with my blue pen, shut the binder, sat it on my lap, rested my elbows on it, and placed my chin on my palms.

He was very good at what he did. It was much more interesting to watch him drive than write my paper. I couldn't take my eyes off of the white powerhouse with the 6 on each side. The smile on Speed's face was so large I thought his teeth were glowing.

Thunderhead was such an important place to us. Here we snuck to watch races. Here we shared our first kiss, here he was taught to drive by his now deceased older brother, Rex. Every time he drove on the T-Head track, it was like Rex was alive again for those six minutes.

He looked right at me and smiled just a bit wider.

When he came back around to the finish, we were all waiting for him. Pops was holding a stopwatch, Mom was clapping, Spritle was chasing Chim-Chim, who was holding a candy bar, and I had my hands folded, waiting for him.

"You did good, son," said Pops.

"Thanks, Pops," he said gratefully. He came to hug me. I kiss him gently on the cheek and said, "Can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, sure," he said. But just then, Pops said, "I hope you're still this good in two weeks."

"What's in two weeks?" we asked in unison.

"Your first track race, m'boy!" Pops chuckled, slapping Speed on the back. "May 27th!"

"May 27th?!" I asked. Of all the races in all the world, Pops had to put him in the one that was on Prom Night!!!??

"Really?!" he gasped, ecstatic.

"Yep," Pops nodded. "Over in Nitona."

"Cool!" he exclaimed. He nodded stoutly, and then turned back to me, "What did you want to talk about, Trixie?"

"Me?" I asked. "Oh, nothing important." I gave him another hug, "Your first race ... yay."

But of course, he didn't understand that was code for: 'Your first race is the same day as prom. What a bummer.'


	3. Ladies of the Volleyball Court

There are two things that girls plan on forever ... well, not _all_ of us, but _a lot_ of us. And those two things are our wedding and _prom! _I knew girls who had their dress on hold since freshman year!

Why? Well, it's a girl thing. Prom is the one night of our lives when we get to feel like a princess and wear a long, pretty gown and tiaras and ride in a limo. From what I've heard, prom is absolutely magical. And I wasn't going.

What did I do? Was this some kind of karmic backslap?

I couldn't help but wonder it as I unpacked my duffle bag to get ready for gym. Gym was an elective class, and most kids took it just because one less class worth of homework. I was in it because Momma had thought it was a required class and, even though I was in no way an athletic prodigy, I, too, appreciated the lack of homework as well as the break from the tedious lectures of other classes. And it wasn't like I could get her consent to take me out anyway.

The only problem was that our school had no locker room. Whose genius idea that was, I'll never know. And so, I was sitting in a bathroom stall, with barely enough room to breathe, trying to pull clothes out of my bag.

BAP! My head hit the back of the wall.

"Aigggghhh," I moaned.

Six minutes later, I hopped out of the stall door, pulling the back of my left sneaker to secure it on my foot.

"Shimura, Trixie," called the teacher as I ran back up the tunnel to the gym. I skidded to a halt on the finished hardwood floor. I caught a glimpse of the horizontal net held up in the middle of the court. That could only mean one thing: volleyball. I hated volleyball.

"Here!" I wheezed, holding onto my knees and talking to the floor. "I'm here!"

"Good, full house," said the teacher. "Okay, listen up, ladies. I might as well tell you now. Enjoy this week of gym, because starting next week, we won't be doing sports for a while."

No one asked, but it was obvious she wanted somebody to, so when I finally got my breath back and was able to stand up straight I raised my hand and inquired, "Why?"

"We've been asked to use our class time to help set up the gym for the Spring Ball," the instructor replied. The girls started giggling and gossiping while our poor teacher moaned aloud, "This they pay me for."

I hit my head on the wall and sank down to the floor. I stared, open mouthed, at the teacher's back, as if this was all her fault. Now I wasn't only missing prom, I had to set up for it!

Story of my life!

"Okay, ladies!" yelled the instructor. "We're not done yet! Get up and make your teams."

We went in, six against six, and started to play. My mind was absolutely elsewhere as I stood on the right-hand side of the back line. I let the ball sail over my head more often than not. Most of the time it would land past the sidelines and be declared out. But once or twice it hit the court when I obviously could have hit it.

"Shimura!" screamed the instructor. "Where is your head at today? Picking prom dresses"

"Nope," I laughed bitterly. "It's definitely not there."

"Well, wherever it is, put it back in the game!"

"Yes, ma'am," I moaned. But it was easier said than done. Even when I did attempt to hit it, it wouldn't make it over the net; someone else had to help it. During the last play of the game, I made one hit. I was imagining the ball was my boyfriend's head. It went over the net, bounced off the back wall, smacked one of the girls in the back, and fell to the floor.

Probably needless to say, my team lost.

With ten minutes left to the bell, all the girls were sitting on the stage. Some were changing right there. Not my cup of tea. I prepared to go and change myself, when Janine Trotter, one of the closest things I had to a girl friend, tapped me on the shoulder and asked, "What was up with you today? You seemed really distracted."

"She's dreaming about prom," replied Lily Marker, twirling around in a circle with a glazed over look on her face.

"No I'm not!" I yelled. "I'm not even going!"

The room stopped. Everyone was suddenly staring at me, and it seemed to more about what I had shouted than the fact that I had shouted period.

"You're not going to prom?!" asked Twinkle Banks, utterly shocked. I rolled my eyes. She was the last person I wanted to talk to about this. I picked up my duffel bag and started to go back to the bathroom saying, "No. Speed has a race that night."

Janine Trotter grabbed my shoulders and prevented me from leaving. She asked, "So?"

"So?" I repeated. Even though I was thinking, so, I don't know, I said. "So! I can't go! I don't want to go without him, he can't possibly go, and I could never ask him to drop out of the race."

"Why NOT!?" the entire gym screamed.

"That would be selfish ..." I grumbled.

"And him totally blowing it off for this race isn't?" asked Twinkle. "Gee, I guess I dodged a bullet." I stiffened and growled at her. She dodged a bullet?! Speed was the one who totally paid no attention to her at sophomore semi!! I saw him looking over at me every ten seconds.

"Who even cares?" I asked, fighting off Janine's grip. I started down the tunnel, screaming, "I don't even want to go! It's just a stupid dance! There are thousands of them! Mindless recreation! That's all it is!"

Nearly everyone who knew me was aware that when I said "mindless recreation," it meant, "I'm gonna call it stupid so maybe I won't want go as badly."

I hopped around the bathroom stall again, trying to get my slippers back on. Just as I finished, the bell rang, and I ran out to the hall. From a short distance away, Speed smiled and waved at me. I went to him and kissed him lightly on the lips.

"You okay?" he asked. "You look flushed."

"Oh, yeah," I replied. "I just came from gym."

"What're we doing today?" he inquired.

"Volleyball."

"Oh," he said, disappointed. He, too, hated volleyball. But his smile soon came back on his face, "I'm going straight to the track from school today. You want to come?"

"I don't think so, Speedy," I said.

"Whaaa?" he asked, eyes widened, mouth open wide. I never told him no before.

"I'm pretty tired, I think I just want to go home," I said. "But you go on to the track. I'll walk home."

"I'll drive you back if you're really that tired," he offered. I shook my head, "No, that's okay. I can manage."

"You sure?"

"Mm-hm," I nodded. We gave each other one more kiss, and then we were off to class.

As I left the schoolhouse that day, I picked up about ten flyers for the Spring Ball. Maybe if I left them about, he'd realize I really wanted to go and take me.

Oh, God, I'm delirious, I thought. But I still put them in the folder flap of my binder and left through the clear-paned doors. Sure enough, the Mach 5 was gone.


	4. Life as Second String

That idiot! He couldn't even tell that I was just being nice when I said I could walk home? He didn't know that he was supposed to insist he drive me!? Did he meet me yesterday?!

Holding onto my pink binder, I stood in front of the door for about a minute, growling, before I finally started to walk. I kicked a random kid's bike, wishing it was the Mach 5. This achieved nothing but a sharp pain in my foot, for I missed and hit the docking place.

"OWWWW!!!" I moaned. I dropped my binder. Papers fluttered out and spread all over the ground.

"OHHHHHH!" I screamed. I knelt onto the ground, picked up my loose pages, stuck them back in the trapper-keeper (which was obviously an inaccurate name) wherever they would go, and started up the street.

Somewhere out there Speed, my boyfriend, was having a perfectly good time without me, thoughts of prom probably not even crossing his mind. I bet he didn't even know it was coming. I didn't know what boys talked about while they were alone, but I didn't think it was school functions.

It really was tragic. I'd only been to one school dance in my entire life: the infamous sophomore semi. It had been absolutely, positively, no fun. I went with Kim Jugger, who I barely even knew, just so I could get Speed upset. It sounds terrible, I realize that, but he crushed me when he asked Twinkle Banks! I wanted to die on the spot, really.

I thought it wouldn't be so bad; Kim was a nice guy. However, when the dance finally came, it took about ten minutes for me to realize I had nothing to say to him! Not to mention he was slowly eroding my teeth by giving me enough imitation fruit punch to fill a bath tub.

But when Speed asked me to dance that last dance, the slow song, it was beautiful. I would have stomached the whole thing again just to have that moment. I'm very sure we would have never gotten together if we hadn't gone to that dance ... with other people...

Weird, I know.

I had hoped that, being an item, Speed and I would go to prom and I would get to experience the magic that one dance gave me again, but for the whole night this time.

Never gonna happen, said a voice in the back of my head. You know he rather spend time with a race car than you.

"Shut up," I whispered. A few strangers in the street stared at me. I smiled awkwardly and continued down the hot pavement.

You better get used to it if you want this to last, continued the voice. He loves racing. He likes you.

"But is it TOO MUCH TO ASK for ONE DANCE with my BOYFRIEND!!" I screamed at the top of my lungs at the sky, eyes closed and gripping the binder in my right hand so tightly that my nails went through the plastic covering into the cardboard.

I don't know if I was expecting an answer, but if I was, none came. Instead, I got a crowd of people gaping at me as if I needed to be caged and put into the loony bin. I think even a couple of cars in the street stopped. Embarrassed, I brushed my hair behind my ears and pushed my way through the crowd, muttering, "Excuse me."

Way to go, Trixie, I thought. Earn yourself a reputation as the Town Nut. I sighed. Maybe I was teetering on the brink of insanity. But if I was, Speed drove me to it. I walked alone down the street of the main square, my head absentmindedly facing a line of store windows.

Suddenly, something caught my eye. I stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and went over to the window. I placed my hands on it, as if it would let me fall through. My mouth opened wide. Hanging in that window was the most beautiful gown I'd ever seen. A long, hot pink spaghetti strap dress that touched the floor and sparkled so captivatingly it seemed like someone had caught the stars and sewed them onto the light material.

I ran inside. I mean, even if I didn't go, there would be no harm in trying it on, would there?

"Can I try on the dress in the window?" I asked.

"Madame, are you interested in buying it?" the lady at the counter asked me.

"Well, not if it doesn't fit, and how will I know unless I try it on?" I asked. I suppose that made some kind of sense to her, because she went into the window and took the dress off the hanger.

"Thank you," I smiled. I took the gown and my belongings into the dressing room, which was only a bit larger than that bathroom stall I'd been in for gym. I slipped into the dress. It fit me perfectly. I zipped the side zippers and looked at myself in the mirror.

Let me be immodest for a moment; I was hot. I mean, people have told me I was cute all my life. While I appreciated the compliment, I never really thought I was anything special. But staring at my reflection in that gown, with the top half of my back in the open, I could admit it, even with my plain slippers on underneath; I was pretty. I extended my arm to the mirror and imagined my reflection was my boyfriend.

"Why, of course, Speed, I'd love to dance," I muttered. I put my hands on my heart and spun around in place in the dressing room. I started to laugh until I got a little dizzy and stood still. I smoothed out the skirt and patted my hair down. In my giddy little dance, I'd knocked my backpack over. My planner was on the floor, open to the month of May. On the twenty-seventh it had 'Prom' written, crossed out, and replaced with 'SUPER STAR'S FIRST RACE.'

Suddenly, being in the dress depressed me. What was the point? I was never going to get to wear it. I nearly wished I'd looked terrible in it; now I knew I looked awesome and no one would ever see!

With a growl I took it off and changed back into my clothes. I put my things back into my bag, folded the gown, and took one last glance in the mirror to make sure I looked decent.

"Why, of course not, Speed, I don't care about some silly dance," I said to my reflection.

I reluctantly slapped the dress back on the counter.

"Was something wrong with it, Miss?" asked the cashier.

"No," I sighed. "It's absolutely perfect."

And I left the woman bewildered as I made my devastated exit.


	5. Excuses, Excuses

The house was totally empty when I arrived. The entire family must have gone to watch Speed practice. As far as I could tell, even Spritle and Chim-Chim were absent. But their mess wasn't, as I discovered when I decided to flop on the couch and watch TV. Cookie crumbs galore were all over the cushion.

My eyes narrowed. I let out another deep breath, this one of anger, slammed my books on the table, picked up the cushions, and started to shake them. As I did, I muttered, "Little brats... leaving me to clean up their mess... My parents would have killed me if I ever tried to eat on the couch… but then again, my parents would have never taken in a friend of the opposite sex, either ..."

When I finally got the cushions clean, I put them back on the couch, sat down sideways, so that my slipper-clad feet were dangling off the side, and watched a bit of TV. By the time everyone strolled in at dinner time, I had just finished my homework and was doodling rudimentary pictures of my dream prom dress in my notebook.

Sparky, the Racer family's personal mechanic and another of Speed's best friends, came over to me. Sparky and I don't have the best relationship. I get the feeling he's not fond of me because I try monopolize all Speed's time. I _know_ I'm not his biggest fan because he constantly tries to keep Speed in the garage. And it doesn't help that he thinks I'm an airhead.

"What are you doing, Space Cadet?" he asked, seeing my face buried in my binder. "Writing out your wedding plans."

"Leave me alone, you goofball," I muttered. Instead he came up behind me to look at what I was drawing.

"Can I _help_ you?" I asked.

"You suck at drawing," he said. "I hope that's not your choice of occupation."

"GET AWAY FROM ME!!!" I shrieked. Sparky backed away, just as Speed entered the room. Sparky patted him on the shoulder, whispered, "Good luck; she's even more irritable than usual," and walked away.

I looked up from my sketches, gave him a weak smile, and waved. He looked completely hot and sweaty. He pulled off his yellow driving gloves, put them in his pocket, and rubbed his lips off with the back of his hand.

"Hi, Trix," he said, jogging over to the couch to give me a kiss.

"Ick!" said a little voice. "PDA alert!!"

Speed rolled his eyes, ignored his brother, and gave me a hug.

"_Repeat offender!_" screamed Spritle, pronouncing it in that childish way where the 'er' turns into an 'a.' He pointed from Mom and Pops to us, "They should be arrested!" Chim-Chim chattered in agreement. Mom Racer giggled. Pops rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yeah, Spritle, we'll get right on that."

"Come on, Spritie," said Mrs. Racer. "I'll get started on dinner so we can eat before they come to take them away." Offers of food apparently wiped the disgust completely from Spritle's mind, for all he said was, "Ooh, can we have porkchops?"

I flung my legs from the armrest and put them in front of me, making room for Speed on the couch. He sat down next to me.

"Did you have a good practice?" I asked.

"Oh, it was fine," he replied. "There were some other cars there, too."

"Tell me you beat them," I demanded. He nodded stoutly and said, "Hell yeah, I did."

"Okay, I'll bite," I said, against my better judgment. "Why was it only 'fine?'" He scratched the back of his neck, brushed the bang on his pompadour a little bit further into his face with his fingers, and said, "I missed you."

"You what?" I asked.

"Practice just isn't the same without you," he admitted. "What am I supposed to do without my number one cheerleader in the crowd? I'd rather have you waiting for me at the finish line than any trophy."

"Ohhhh, _you_," I mumbled, utterly flattered.

"I'm serious," he said, blushing.

"Well, thank you," I said. Somewhere in the back of my mind I said, _remember, you're still upset! Flattery will get him _nowhere_!_

I hate to admit that was such a lie.

"Hey, guess what I found out today!" said Speed suddenly. I tilted my head to show my ear facing him and asked, "What?"

"Did you know our senior prom is on the same night as the Nitona race?" he inquired.

"Oh, is it?" I fibbed. "I had no idea."

"All the guys were talking about it at school today!"

"They _were?_" I asked. I got a strange vision in my mind of a bunch of guys sitting at a lunch table and one of them going, 'Oh. My. GOD. You will not _believe_ the tux I got! And, oh God, I don't know if my cummerbund is going to fit!'

It was funny and disturbing at the same time.

"Yeah," said Speed. "They were talking about the girls they wanted to ask and the girls they _did_ ask who, by the way, were _totally_ different." He stared off into the kitchen for a moment and said, "I didn't even realize... Trixie, do you _want_ to go to prom?"

"Who, me?" I asked. "Want to go to prom?"

"Yeah," he nodded.

I longed to scream "Of course! Are you an idiot?! What kind of question is _that?!_" However, I knew that competing in his first race meant a lot to Speed. And if I prevented him from doing that, I knew he'd resent me forever for it, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

"_No!_" I exclaimed falsely. "_Prom_. What's the big deal?"

"I just thought maybe you might want to go," he said. "And if you did, I'd be a real jerk if I didn't take you. And I think I added up enough jerk points from the sophomore semi thing."

"Well, _that's_ true," I told him. "But I'm fine with not going. Everyone thinks prom's a blast. Let me tell you what prom is _really_ like."

I closed my eyes and imagined my words in my head as I started to say, "_First of all, I'll spend hours looking for a dress…"_

I saw myself pressing on the window of the store with the sparkling pink gown, eyes a glow.

"_Only to find out I can't afford it and buy my second choice."_

My vision of myself went into the store, looked at the price tag on my dream dress and yelped, "Yikes!" I went over to the rack and picked up what seemed more like a light pink nightgown than a prom gown.

"Oh well," I sighed, putting the money down on the cash register.

"_And then you'll buy me a corsage that will totally clash with it!"_

Imaginary me was standing in the living room with her second-best prom gown. I was joined by a Speed, dressed in a navy blue tuxedo.

"I kind of forgot what color you said the dress was going to be," he explained.

Huh? Seriously, did he meet me yesterday? He handed me a box with bright blue flowers in it.

"Oh, gee, Speed," I said uncertainly. "Thanks a ton."

"_Thanks for giving me so much credit," _Speed interrupted my narration sarcastically.

I ignored him and continued, "_Then we'll be off, and halfway there, the Mach 5 will just stop running."_

"_Are you crazy, Trixie?!" _asked Speed. The sound of a hand knocking on wood came into the background of my vision.

I envisioned us in the Mach 5, laughing and joking, until suddenly it came to an abrupt halt. We looked around, shocked, as if the answer was waiting in the night air. I pushed myself a bit forward in my seat and asked, "What's going on?"

"I don't know," Speed admitted. He got out of the car, opened the hood, and said, "Nothing, from what I can see. Let me look in the trunk. Maybe we're carrying some extra weight." He went to the back of the car and opened the trunk.

"YOU DIDN'T!" he screamed.

"What?!" I asked, bolting around.

"I found our extra weight," he moaned, carrying Spritle in one hand and Chim-Chim in the other.

"Hi, Trixie," said Spritle. "You look pretty." I cocked an eyebrow, "They aren't _that_ heavy!"

"Alone, no," Speed acknowledged. He put them down and picked up a treasure trove of toys, "But with _this stuff, _I think so."

"_And then, when we get there, about a half an hour late…"_

Speed's parents came up in the little red wagon and took Spritle and Chim-Chim away, allowing us to continue and get to the school.

"_...everyone's going to tell me how pretty I look, like I'm a dog every other day of the year."_

My hypothetical Speed and I came into the gym. The theme was 'Love Among the Stars.' Janine Trotter waltzed over to us and gushed, "Gee, Trixie, you look so different! I can't get over it! That dress is so pretty! Where did you get it?! Come sit with me and my date; there're still a lot of people who haven't come yet!"

"_And they'll all be so shocked by my dormant beauty that they'll vote me prom queen. And you, being Mr. Popular-Race-Car-Driver, will of course be my king._"

The class president came to the microphone, holding ballots, and said, "Ladies and gentlemen, I have the winners. I give you, Speed RACER and Trixie SHIMURA!"

A white spotlight came upon us. Speed pumped his fist in the air, and we started to walk on stage. The moment was so beautiful; everything seemed to be in slow motion.

"_This sounds oddly familiar,"_ said Speed.

I sat, content with my vision, until I realized it was too happy. I was supposed to be describing a train wreck! I went back to my objective, "_And ... and then, while I'm at the peak of my happiness and I least expect it …"_

We arrived at the stage. The tiara came upon my head. Someone gave me a bouquet. Speed kissed me tenderly on the lips. Then as we broke apart ...

"_BOOM! Bucket of pigs' blood, right on my head!"_

There was a clatter, and next I knew, I was blanketed in a warm liquid. Eyes wide, mouth opened wide, I stared at my bloody fingers.

"_And then I will be forced to desecrate the entire student body with telekinetic powers I didn't know I had until that very moment._"

With my story done, I opened my eyes and looked at Speed. He was staring at me skeptically.

"Pigs' blood?" he asked.

"Okay, maybe nothing so _drastic_," I admitted. "Maybe someone will throw fruit punch at me. Pigs' blood, fruit punch; it's all red."

"So you're sure you don't want to go?" asked Speed. I forced myself to smile and nod, "Yeah."

"Okay," he said. He gave me a quick peck on the lips and asked me, "Call me when dinner's ready, okay? I'm going to wash up."

"Mm-hm," I complied. When he left the room, I sank into the couch and sighed. Once again, I'd let him off the old hookeroo.


	6. All Stars and Credit Cards

As the weeks rolled by, the school prepared for prom and the Racers prepared for the Nitona race. The Mach 6 was in the garage, Pops working out some small kinks Speed had encountered during practice. Speed laundered the bandana-turned-neckerchief I had given him the day we first kissed, and I attempted to find the strength in myself not to scream at him.

Every day I passed the beautiful pink gown on my way home from school, whether it be from riding with Speed in the Mach 5 or walking, as begun to be the case more and more as the race approached.

Meanwhile, I was beginning to long for the days when we actually played in gym. Setting up chairs and decorations for the luckier-than-me kids who were going to the dance was not the highlight of my day. The theme was 'Written in the Night Sky.' As such, our main decoration concern was placing cardboard stars on the ceiling and floor.

"Aw, 'Written in the Night Sky,' 'Love Among the Stars,' I was close enough," I muttered to myself as I climbed up a ladder, holding a glittered star from a string. I stared ahead to my destination. A grid of thin strings was tied just below the ceiling. We were supposed to tie the strings of the stars to the corners of the squares in the grid. In the dark, it would look like they were floating in mid-air ... I guess.

"What does the decorating committee do?" I asked. Then I figured they just printed out stars and things like that. Gym is already manual labor, after all; might as well make them do all the hard stuff.

I tied my star as close to the end of the string as I could get, so it would look higher in the air. I tugged it down a bit to make sure it was secure, and then I stared at it. I said to myself, "The stars will look prettier at Nitona, anyway. ... They'll be real, at least."

And I climbed down the ladder.

When the bell rang, freeing me from the captivity of the gym, I ran through the tunnel to the cafeteria. I sat down at Speed and my usual table and opened the bagged lunch Mom Racer gave me. She was such a nice woman. I looked at the note inside, cocked an eyebrow, and said, "This isn't my lunch."

Speed came into the cafeteria, totally ecstatic.

"I think I got your lunch," I said. I held up the note at him. It read: 'Try, honey. Please TRY!'

"Yeah, I knew it was too good to be true," he said. He gave me his paper bag. The note inside said: 'Keep that big brain healthy.'

"My next practice is in two days. Do you want to come?" he asked. He looked at the sandwich put it to his mouth, contemplated taking a bite, decided not to, and put it back down.

"I don't think so," I mumbled. "I'm really tired. Gym class is running us ragged with prom decorating. I'll just go home and go to sleep until next week."

"Will you be at Nitona?" he asked, only half-joking.

"Of course," I said with a rather forced chuckle. I pushed the sandwich at him, "Eat, Speedy, eat! You're all skin and bones." Hyperbole, yes, but he did need to eat. "If you don't, you'll faint at the wheel, and then you'll never win."

He started eating.

"So, you guys are setting up for the prom?" he asked. I nodded.

"How's it looking?"

"Beautiful," I whispered. Then I revised it, stuttering, "Oh--okay. It's looking okay." Speed took my hand and fondled it, saying, "You've been so patient with all this racing stuff. I can't thank you enough."

"Well, I know it's what you want to do," I said. "Who would I be to stand in your way?"

While driving home later that day, I found myself staring still into that same store window, imagining my body where the mannequin's was. They had put a white leather turtleneck jacket out next to it.

"What're you looking at, Trix?" asked Speed. I turned to him, "Huh? Who? Me?" His eyes fell upon the dress. He looked from it to me, a concerned look on his face.

"I was—I was looking at that snazzy jacket," I said, pointing at it. "Doesn't it look cool?"

"Yeah," he said, clearly admiring it himself.

"I bet it would fit you."

"What?" he asked.

"It has 'racing champion' written all over it, if you ask me," I continued. "Come on. Let's go buy it." I took the wheel from the passenger seat and parked in front of the shop. I pulled him in, despite his protests.

"Trixie, I could never afford something like that!" he hissed. "We barely make enough to buy candy for Spritle and Chim-Chim."

"Don't you worry your pretty little head about it," I said. "I still have a week until Daddy cuts off my credit card, and I know this would burn his kettle." I pulled out my wallet, slapped down the plastic platinum card and said, "The white jacket in the window."

The woman at the register, the very same one who got the dress for me, gave me a skeptical look before she went to the window and pulled the jacket from the mannequin. She swiped my card, asked me to sign a receipt, and then I slipped the jacket on Speed. It fit him, with just enough room to spare so that he could still wear it in a year or two.

"Do you like it?" I asked, zipping up the zipper to his neck. "Now you'll be the best dressed driver at Nitona, too."

But he was staring at the pink dress.

"Speed, are you listening to me?"

"Yes, Trixie," he said. He tore his eyes away from the window and kissed me on the forehead. "It's great. I love it."

"Thank you for shopping here," said the cashier. "Have a nice day."

"And you as well," I bade her. Speed started to unzip the jacket; I told him to keep it on, and he did. We started to the door. I gazed at his back, hoping that he would realize everything by some telepathic connection I knew we didn't have.

Speed's eyes stayed fixed on the gown until we pulled away from the curb and went home.


	7. Girl Talk

During the final week before prom, my gym class was still doing finishing touches on the "Great Hall," but now other kids were helping as well. I saw people running around with DJ stations and band equipment. The head of the committee came over to me that Wednesday and showed me one of the king and queen ballots.

"There it is, Shimura," he said, handing me the fuchsia slip. "In black and … pink."

I looked at it. Then I cocked an eyebrow. Yes, there it was, in laser jet ink, typed right underneath "Please select one."

"_1. Greg Racer and Patty Shimura."_

I did a double take, almost asking, "Who?" No one called Speed by his birth name, Greg, and only my father called me Patricia.

"One of the teachers typed this, didn't they?" I asked.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he chuckled.

"Whatever. No big deal. Just take us off," I moaned.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked. "Is the name thing that big a deal?"

"We aren't going," I explained. "Our names shouldn't be there. As far as I'm concerned…" I looked to the couple named after us, "Twinkle Banks and Kim Jugger can … Twinkle and Kim?!"

The irony.

"Anyway, as far as I'm concerned, _they _can have it," I finished.

"I can't take you off," he said.

"Sure you can," I said, holding a piece of blue ribbon as I climbed up a ladder, trying desperately not to break my neck. "Go to the teacher who typed it, tell them to retrieve that fancy-schmancy thing called a Word Document, and replace 'Greg and Patty' with some _other_ couple."

I laughed: _Greg and Patty_.

"No, that's not it," he said. "First of all, do you _know_ how many trees it would kill?"

"Tragedy," I snorted, hanging the ribbon on the right side of the ceiling. "Are you in the Environmental Club or something? Because I don't think many other people's minds would go there first."

"Look, we can't take you off because you're the Class Couple!" he yelled. "The Class Couple is always on the ballot! That and … I'm not sure we would _want_ any of the other couples in this school to represent us."

"Well, that's too darn bad," I snapped, climbing back down the ladder to go to the other side of the room. He followed me.

"Let's look at it this way; the yearbook is already out, so even if you _did_ win and you weren't there, it wouldn't matter, because no one's going to document it."

"That makes me feel _loads_ better," I said sarcastically. _Never_ speak to a boy about things only a _woman_ understands. I climbed up the left side ladder, saying, "Look, do what you want. We won Class Couple by accident, anyway. It's obvious people do whatever they want at this school."

"Thanks, Shimura!" he exclaimed. He started to run off.

"Can you _at least_ turn Greg and Patty to Speed and Trixie!?" I yelled after him. "Half our potential voters won't recognize us with those names!"

"I'll do my best!" he shouted back.

"That means no," I said to myself. I rolled my eyes and stuck the other end of the ribbon to the ceiling. My hand brushed past one of the stars. It slipped off its string and hit me on the head.

"Ach," I said, leaning a bit backwards. Suddenly, I lost my footing. My left leg slipped out from underneath me. I desperately went to grab for something and found nothing. My right leg, too, lost its grip on the ladder, and I felt the wind of my body falling through the air.

Until something stopped me.

"Please obverse hardware safety," said Speed, holding me in his arms, "because an impeccably adorable racecar driver will not always be walking through the gym at the exact right moment."

"What are you doing here?" I asked, heart pumping at double rate, chest heaving. He let me down, and I added, "Not that I'm complaining or anything."

"I asked to go to the bathroom," he explicated. "I figured I'd come this way."

"Well, thank you for that," I giggled. I gave him a hug quickly and let go.

"Now that I'm here, I might as well stick around for a while," he muttered. I gave him an incredulous look and asked, "You don't have to go to the bathroom, do you?" He squeezed my shoulder and chortled, "Well, if I said 'I wanna go visit my girlfriend,' he wouldn't have let me go, so…" as if it made perfect sense.I motioned my hand around the gym, "Here it is. _This_ is the fruit of all our labor. It's almost done. We just have to put up the lights."

"It looks nice," he nodded.

"I bet it'll be even prettier at night," I whispered wistfully.

"You mean at prom," he concluded. I paused. How was I to get around this one? I stammered, "Uh—um—I should … get back to work." I Eskimo-kissed his cheek and said, "See you at home." I picked up another ribbon and started up the ladder again.

"Trixie, tell me the truth," he demanded, "do you want to go to prom?"

I screwed up my face into a smile, turned around, and said, "Sweetie, I _much_ rather have a picnic with you at Nitona after you get that trophy." I scrunched up my face and gave him a big kiss on the cheek. "Okay?"

"Okay," he concurred. He jabbed a thumb behind him, "I'm gonna go back to class."

"Much love!" I called after him. He waved back and left through the tunnel. I picked up another piece of ribbon and hoped beyond hope that the ladder incident wasn't God trying to punish me for lying.

I've never been able to confirm this hypothesis, but I think Mom Racer was so lenient about having me move in the house because she was happy at the prospect of having another girl in the house. The family already had had three sons, and they weren't about to try for another anytime soon. After all, Spritle and Chim-Chim were already like two rowdy twins. I was the closest thing the Racers were ever going to have to a daughter. … Not to mention I was the number one inhibitor of race-centric groupies…

I didn't have a job, and I didn't have the time to _have_ one, what with school and supporting Speed in his racing and such, so I couldn't pay the Racers any rent. I would've if I could've. Instead, I helped Mrs. Racer with housework.

"It wouldn't kill the boys to try this every once in a while," she muttered as we washed the dishes. She washed, I dried.

"Them, no; _you_, I'm not so sure," I laughed. "Would you honestly _want _Spritle and Chim-Chim to hold onto glass dishes?"

"Point taken," she admitted. We gave a chuckle at the thought of the monkey dumping dishes in a water-and-soap-filled sink and the child dropping them from his soapy hands.

"You know, Trixie, I was cleaning your room the other day," Mrs. Racer began.

"Oh, yes!" I gasped. "I forgot to thank you. I just wish you would have told me told me before you started; I would have lightened the load for you."

"I don't mind at all, Trixie," she notified me. "Even at your messiest you're neater than any of the men in this house." She passed me another plate, a pink one with stars all over it.

"I've never seen this one before," I said, wiping it with the now-damp dishrag. "Where is it from?"

"Family outing," she replied. "Cute little place where you paint your own plate. Speedy did it when he was ten." She smiled, "I think he had you in mind." I finished drying the plate and stared at it for a moment, "It's cute. Wonder why he never told me about it."

"I suppose painting pink plates doesn't do much for his masculinity," said Mrs. Racer. She sighed, "Trixie, when I cleaning your room the other day, I saw a paper talking about your senior prom."

A lump came into my throat. I croaked, "Oh, _that_."

"It's the same day as Speedy's race," she stated the fact.

"I know," I said, nodding, trying to hold back a sigh. I carefully put the pink plate back where it belonged.

"So, I suppose you don't intend to go," she said. I shook my head.

"Aren't you interested in the slightest?" she asked. I continued to shake my head, but I had a feeling she, unlike her _genius _son, could see through me.

"I've never had another date quite like prom," she told me. "Of course, I went with Pops. The car broke down half a mile to school and, of course, because he's not one to leave a car in need, he got down underneath it and fixed it!" She laughed and grasped the blue and white plate she was currently washing close to her chest. "He was covered in motor oil when we got there. And I forgot halfway through the dance and let him dance close to me. My dress was ruined. Then we won Prom Queen and King. Our picture was all over the school covered in black … But it was magic; the most fun I've ever had."

Boy, was I ever glad she was done! I wanted magic! I wanted memories! I wanted to be able to sigh nostalgically with my … son's girlfriend twenty years from now!

I wanted to go to prom!

A tear fell on the dish I'd just dried. I watched it stream from where it landed to the end of the plate and fall to the ground.

"Ohhhhhh!" I moaned. The flood gates had been opened, and I started to weep. I closed my hands over my face and sobbed into the dishrag. It smelled of Lemon Pledge.

This, Mom Racer clearly was not expecting. She spluttered, "Oh, dear, I, um …"

"I want to go! I do!" I said, but the sound was muffled through the rag.

"Why don't you tell Speedy?" she asked. "I'm sure he'd love to take you." I shook my head. Her warm, soapy hands touched my shoulder, "Why do you think he wouldn't?"

I pulled my face out of my hands, wiped my eyes, and said, "Because I'm number two."

Her eyes widened.

"Racing's what Speed loves to do," I continued. "That's number one. He'd hate me if I kept him from this race, I just know it! I'm number two." Another tear fell, and I wiped it away, "But that's fine. I knew it when I got into this."

"Trixie…" she started.

"I'll just go to Nitona and come home and watch horror movies about it," I said. "It's fine."

"Oh dear," Mrs. Racer whispered. "Trixie, why don't you go to the bathroom and clean yourself up? I can handle the rest of the dishes."

"I can't do that, I …"

"I insist," she stressed. "Go." She motioned to the doorway, "Go on." I nodded and started up the stairs, regretting my outburst. Now she was going to chastise Speed for not taking me, and then he'd have _two_ reasons to hate me.

Something was starting to tell me I _wasn't_ going to be Mrs. Trixie Racer.


	8. Game Over

Finally, the day arrived. Prom and Nitona were in just a few hours. Our labor in gym was over, and the class expected to watch a movie.

"We should watch one about prom!" gushed Janine.

"Yeah, I've heard _Prom Night_ is pretty good," I mumbled. The girls stared at me for a couple of seconds. I gave them an ear-to-ear grin.

"Where _is_ she?" asked Lily, referring to the teacher. As if she heard the comment, she came sauntering in the front doors. She never used the tunnel. She was wearing her whistle. How weird. She only did that when …

"We're playing badminton today, girls," she said. "Outside." Our eyes lit up. We _never_ played outside! I always wondered why. The best reason I could think of was the fact that more dangers loomed outside.

We took rackets, ran out the exit, and spilt up into teams to play. It was pretty fun and almost got my mind off my troubles, until I heard one of my teammates go, "My dress is pressed and ironed. He _better_ rent a limo!"

My mind wandered away from the game for just a moment, and the birdie hit me in the head. Unnerved, Twinkle Banks hit it before it could hit the floor and got it back into a volley.

_Whoop-dee-doo_, I thought. _God, I hope you _don't_ win prom queen._

"Mr. Racer, may I ask _what_ is so entertaining that you can't tear yourself away from the window?" asked a faint voice.

"Uh … a squirrel," replied another. The first voice growled, ending the conversation.

I looked to the nearest window and noticed a familiar face staring at me. I waved at him. He held up a loose leaf from his binder which had 'You look good in shorts!' written on it in black ink. It sure seemed like Mrs. Racer hadn't told him anything. Maybe she understood my line of thinking and decided not to rock the boat.

I laughed and threw out my left hand in a humble 'stop it' kind of motion. In response he held up another page. It read 'I'm serious.' He turned it over. On the other side it said 'Can you wear them more often?'

"Five minute break, ladies!" called my teacher. I jogged over to the window, crossed my arms over the ledge, placed my chin on them, and asked, "Shouldn't you be working?"

"He doesn't feel like teaching; we don't feel like learning," she shrugged. "It's a great combination.

"I bet you can't wait for tonight, huh?" I asked.

"I'm totally psyched," he replied. Well, that made one of us. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and said, "I almost forgot, I bought you a present!"

"Really?" I asked. "What is it!?" A present? An 'I'm sorry I robbed you of your senior prom' present? This ought to be good.

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"It's a surprise," he answered.

"Can I guess?" I inquired. He'd really peaked my interest. Hopefully it was something big... "Did you buy me a helicopter?"

"Think smaller scale … _much_ smaller scale," he chuckled.

"A stuffed animal?" I asked.

"Less cheesy."

"Just _tell _me!" I demanded. "And if you don't … I'll stare at you…" I widened my eyes and stared him down, "_really_ hard. And you'll get so nervous that you'll finally tell me." He cocked an eyebrow and snickered, "_Scary,_ Trix. But I'm not telling. You'll see it when we get home."

"Why did you tell me this _now?!_" I wondered aloud. "Now I'm going to be thinking about it all day! This is going to kill me!"

"It's about time _you_ were the one squirming in this relationship," he joked.

"Back on the field, girls!" yelled my instructor.

"Oh, I gotta go," I said regretfully. "Good luck kiss?" He planted one on my forehead.

"Mr. RACER!" shouted his teacher. "What is the squirrel doing now?!" He turned around, let out a deep breath, and said, "Uh … playing with a kitty." He did jazz hands as he added, "Nature in harmony!"

The last thing I heard before I ran back onto the field was his frustrated teacher say, "Mr. Racer, you belong in Creative Writing, not Honors British Literature."

"Does that mean I can leave?" asked Speed.

Speed's announcement had a totally negative effect on my game. I could no longer think straight and, as such, I kept missing the birdie. I think one of my teammates might have sworn at me!

Speed apparently turned out to be right. With the festivities going on tonight, and many of the teachers playing chaperone, no one seemed to have the capacity to work. This suited Speed perfectly, as he _never_ felt like doing schoolwork, but for once everyone else was sharing his mentality. Even the toughest of teachers had gained a sense of leniency.

"Let's have some good, clean, fun," said Mrs. Tennenbaum, my history teacher. "No alcohol, no drugs; you know the drift. And ladies, don't let your dates pressure you into anything you don't want to do. You are strong women of vision with voices of your own…"

Awkward much?

"Now then, chapter ten," she switched gears, opening her book. I said a _sense_ of leniency. Tennenbaum was _never_ going to drop work for pleasure. And so, during our very last period before prom—er, Nitona—we were thrust into the world of the Civil War. My wrist futilely tried to keep up with the pace of her speech. Luckily, before she could get through her lecture and—more importantly—before she could give us _homework_, the bell rang.

"Ohhh," she groaned. "I guess time flies when you're having fun." The class looked around at each other, a mutual: _Yeah, THAT'S it_ look among us. I closed my two inch binder, so full of papers that the front cover no longer slanted when closed. I jogged down the steps to find my boyfriend and tell all about Tennenbaum's prom warning.

"You should have heard her during _our_ class," laughed Speed. "She told us--no lie--to 'refrain from taking the innocence of these naïve young girls.'"

"Really?!" I chuckled. He seemed to flush a bit, "Yes. She must not know _you_ very well."

We past the library and found ourselves standing before the gym doors. I stopped in my tracks. There it was, just a small push away. I couldn't enjoy it … but I could see it.

"Trix?" asked Speed. I looked around briefly, snuck over to the door, and pushed it open just a crack.

"Trixie, what are you _doing_?!" he hissed.

"I'm not going," I explained, "but I worked hard and think I deserve to see the finished product the way it was meant to be!"

"Jesus, Trixie, you're gonna get caught!" he whispered.

"Just a _quick _look!" I justified myself. I started to slip through the opening, until Speed muttered, "No!" and pulled me back.

"Hey!" I shouted, utterly peeved. First he entered a race on the same day, making attendance impossible, and now he was preventing me from even _looking_ at the gym!?

"You'll see pictures," he said. "Isn't that good enough?"

"N—" I began. But then I pushed the words through my mouth: "I _guess _so." He pushed the front door open and held it for me.

"Thank you," I said with a nod of the head. We trotted over to the Mach 5, fastened our seatbelts, and were off.

There was silence for quite a while as we rode through the streets. The gum incident had made the mood rather hostile. In an attempt to lighten things up, I asked, "So, this present of mine … Can you give me a hint?"

"Trixie, I already told you at lunch, _no!_" he exclaimed. "That would ruin the idea of the _surprise!_"

"Ohhh, _fine!_" I groaned. I crossed my legs and arms and turned to my right. We passed the store that had my dream dress. There was another dress in its place, a teal one.

I gasped.

"What?" he asked. I turned away from the shop window quickly and said, "Nothing! Nothing at all." I took on a defeated tone, "Let's just go home."

"We're getting there," he assured me.

Well, there it was. Someone else was going to prom in _my _dress. All fantasies of perhaps finding some way to go, like maybe there would be complications on the Nitona track that made it impossible to race on, were dashed.

_Well, a happy night to whoever got it_, I thought, _I'm sure she's lovely and prettier than me with a date who much rather be with her than a car…_

No more words were spoken between Speed and me. Heartbroken, I sank into the passenger seat.


	9. First Place

"Mom, we're home!" called Speed into the house as we slunk into the house. Mom Racer appeared in the hall with an apron around her waist. She said in a hurried voice, "We'll be having dinner at six, as usual."

"I better take a shower and change," said I. "I'll be back."

"Wait until after dinner!" insisted Mrs. Racer and Speed. They said it in unison … in a very rehearsed and similar tone.

"What?"

"We'll have plenty of time after dinner to get ready!" said Mrs. Racer, brandishing her large wooden spoon like a scepter. "And I'm making your favorite: Shrimp Alfredo. Don't you want it hot?"

"But it's only five now," I mumbled.

"And you take about an hour and a half in the shower," snorted Speed. I smacked his shoulder and yelled, "That isn't true!" I _did_ take a long time in the shower typically, but nowhere near an hour and a half!

"Just wait," said Speed.

I _did_ love Shrimp Alfredo … a _lot_, and I decided that food might make me feel better about the entire situation. So I nodded, and said. "Okay. But I'll be right back. Let me put my bag in my room."

"Just leave it here," said Mom Racer. I chuckled. Mrs. Racer _hated_ when she found our stuff in the middle of the floor.

"Does this have something to do with Speed's little surprise?" I asked. Mrs. Racer gave me an innocent look, "Speed's surprise? What do you mean?" I knew she was lying, but I quickly chose to pretend I didn't. I shrugged, "Oh, nothing." I put my backpack on the floor and started back to the front door, "I'm going to get the mail, okay?"

No one said anything. I shrugged and went outside. As I opened the little mailbox and flipped the flag down, I noticed the garage door was open.

"Put her back, Spark," said Pops Racer. He looked rather devastated. I didn't understand it. Speed's T-180, the Mach 6, looked absolutely awesome. Then I wondered why exactly they were putting it back in the garage. Speed was racing tonight. They needed to be _loading it up_.

"Maybe the surprise is he's driving a different car that says 'Trixie Rocks!' on the sides," I muttered to myself.

_Nah,_ my mind retaliated. _If that was it you wouldn't be banned from your room_.

I thought Pops shook his head as he closed the garage door. Then he saw me looking at him. He waved and darted back into the house. Shocked, I took the mail out of the box and looked through it. I don't know why. I never get anything.

"Mr. Racer, Speed, Speed, Speed, Mr. Racer, Mr. and Mrs. Racer, and _Sparky!_" I read. _Sparky _got mail and I didn't!?

"You say my name?" asked Sparky, removing himself from the garage.

"Here!" I growled, thrusting the mail at him.

"Gee, I don't get what you're so upset about, Space Cadet," he said. "If I were you, I'd be bouncing off the walls."

"Why should I be?" asked I.

"Well, I mean, Speed…"

"SPARKY!" yelled Speed from the window. His face was absolutely panicked, and he was beating on the glass. That ended when Mrs. Racer said, "Young man, if you break that window, you'll pay for it out of your race money." Speed pointed at Sparky, shook his head, and walked away

"… and I don't know what _he's_ so worked up about!" moaned Sparky. "I was just going to say that you should be happy for his success."

"I _am_," I growled. "Now get out of my way." I shoved him aside and went back inside.

We all sat around the dinner table, everyone happy and talking. Things seemed so normal … or as normal as it gets when you're with a family that owns a monkey.

"He'll win it, I'm sure," said Mom. "You don't have to be so tense, honey." She patted Pops on the back a little. A nervous chuckle emitted from her lips.

"Yes, I know," he grumbled. Mom leaned over and whispered something in his ear.

"I'm trying," he sighed. Mom shook her head, threw up her arms, and looked to me. I already knew I was wearing a look that suggested I knew they were up to something. My eyebrow slowly cocked upward. _What_ was going on?

"How do you like the Alfredo?" asked Mrs. Racer. "I put extra parmesan cheese on it."

"It's delicious," I smiled. It was just like my mother used to make when I lived at home. Gee, I get my mind off of one thing that makes me miserable only to fall victim to another.

Mom Racer had successfully put my suspicions to rest for the moment. I turned to Speed and asked, "So, do I get my surprise after this?" He shifted his mouth from side to side, as if contemplating if I deserved it yet.

"I guess I've put you through enough," he said. "Yep. You'll get it after your shower." I clapped a little, finished my meal, kissed his cheek, and went upstairs to the bathroom.

I hummed a nondescript tune in the shower as I washed off the sweat from gym and emerged in a pink robe. A red towel was on my head. I tied the robe with my right hand and rustled water out of my head with the left. When finally I thought my hair was as dry as it was going to get, I threw the towel aside on my bed. I picked up a bottle of pink lotion to spread on my arms and legs.

Night had fallen long ago. It was around seven-fifteen. Limos were probably already coming to pick some of the girls up from their houses. In my mind I pictured a faceless girl with my dream dress on dancing with Speed.

"AAAAAHHHH!!" I shrieked. I clenched my hands into fists. The cap on the bottle of lotion in my hand popped off. Lotion gushed out all over my arm and the floor. I smeared the flowing lotion all over my legs and both arms, and even put some on my neck to get rid of it. Then I picked up the towel to rub it in a little better.

That was when I noticed my yearbook in the center of the mattress.

"I didn't leave that there," I said to myself. I picked it up and opened it. It now had no new book smell, nor the sound the pressure of the opening placed on the binding, anymore. I looked at the flyleaf. In large black letters were the sweetest words I could have ever read:

_YOU will ALWAYS be my NUMBER ONE!!_

_-- Love, Speed_.

Number one? But he could have only known that if he'd heard … I ran to my closet, opened the door and gasped. My hands flew instinctively to my mouth. There it was, right in front of me, hanging in front of the rest of my clothes: my dress! Even in the dimly lit room it shone like a pink diamond.

"Surprise," said a voice.

"You bought me the dress," I said. I turned to see him in a tuxedo, carrying a transparent box that held a corsage in it.

"Yeah," he nodded. "It didn't take a genius to figure out you _weren't_ really looking at that white jacket, which I love, by the way. It goes with the car and my helmet and everything." He grinded the tip of his black dress shoes into an imaginary stain on the floor. "Mom told me what you said. About being number two?" I glanced to the floor, "I figured she would."

"I'm glad she did!" he exclaimed. "I never wanted you to think I care more about a car than you! I was born to shift gears. I'm meant to be behind the wheel. Racing is my passion … but Trixie, you'll always be number one."

"You're carrying a corsage," I suddenly observed aloud. But he was so happy about that race! Was he really going to blow it off and take me to prom?

"Yes I am," he replied, eerily like he'd read my thoughts. "Because here's how I see it, there are going to be a thousand races in my lifetime, but how many chances am I going to get to take you to senior prom? So, I'm gonna ask again: do you, Trixie Shimura, want to go to prom with me?"

"Yes!" I said. "Yes, I do!" I jumped into the air and tackled him to the ground.

"That's great!" he said, strain evident. I kissed him and said, "Oh, Speed, _thank you!_ This is the best present you could have ever given me!"

"I please to aim," he moaned. I helped him to his feet, groomed him a bit, and gave him another kiss, "I'm going to get dressed, and then we can go."

"I'll be waiting downstairs," he said. As he left, I blew him another kiss. I stared at the dress in my closet. Finally, everyone was going to see how wonderful I looked in it. My smile was uncontainable as I took it off the hanger.

Speed stood with his mother, father, brother, monkey, and Sparky at the foot of the steps. Mrs. Racer was snapping pictures of him. Pops looked as if he might weep, but I was pretty sure that was because of the money Speed lost the family by dropping out the Nitona race.

"Honey, you look so handsome!" she declared. "Like a little gentleman!"

I came to the top of the steps.

"Holy canoli," said Sparky. Everyone looked up at me. Mom Racer gasped and clapped her hands together. She was about to cry tears of joy. Spritle dropped his candy bar, and after Chim-Chim was done chattering, he stole it. Speed stood still, totally stunned. I was a _little_ insulted. How bad did I look normally?!

"You look really pretty, Trixie," said Spritle. Chim-Chim nodded in agreement. Mom Racer snapped a few pictures as she said, "Sweetie, you're _beautiful!_"

"She's right," said Speed, finally finding his voice. "You really are."

"It's a great dress, huh?" I asked.

"It didn't look nearly as until you put it on," he replied. I couldn't believe it. He thought _the dress_ looked good _on me!_

"Oh, Speed!" I gasped. I threw my arms passionately around him. SNAP! Mom Racer took another picture. When I let go, Speed opened the box holding the corsage and offered to put it on me. I held out my wrist and watched in awe as he tied the pink roses around it.

"It doesn't clash, does it?" he asked.

"No," I said with a smile. "You really put your all into this, huh?"

"Anything to make you happy," he said. "Let's get going. Don't want to be late." I slipped my hand through the crook of his arm and together we started out the front door. Once we got to the Mach 5 and Speed held the door for me, the reality of all of it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I was actually going to prom!


	10. Better Than the Best

The stars in the sky never looked as bright as they did on Prom Night. I couldn't contain my grin as I stared up, waiting for Speed to get into the driver's seat.

"How did you even get in there?!" he yelled into the trunk.

"What?" I mumbled. I looked to the back of the car. Speed was standing over the trunk, motioning behind him and yelling, "Get out! GET OUT!!" I unlocked my door and click clacked my heels to join him. Per the status quo, Spritle and Chim-Chim were sitting in the trunk.

"But we wanna go to prom too, Speed," whined the boy. The chimp chattered in response.

"Well, you'll have to wait another nine years," Speed replied. He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder again, "Out." He turned to the front door and yelled, "MOM! Spritle's trying to hitch a ride again!"

Mom Racer jogged out of the house, scooped the child and monkey out of the trunk, and said, "Have fun you two. Be home early. Make good choices. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Speed's face turned a violent shade of red as his mother trotted back inside the open door.

I gave Speed a giggle and put my hand on his shoulder, "Way to do pest control, Wunderkind." But he was still staring at the front door.

"Speedy?" I asked.

"Did she? … She didn't … Did she really just say that?" he asked. I laughed a little bit more and gave him a kiss on the cheek, at which he nodded, chuckled, and observed aloud, "No wonder she doesn't trust us."

Gently he nudged me back in the direction of the passenger seat. I sat myself back down. He walked around the front of the car and slid into the driver's seat.

"Okay, albeit a little later--and less romantic--than expected, we are _off!_" he declared. And we sailed through the streets in the white metal chariot. I felt the urge to look outside at the emblazoned 5 and scream at it, "I'm number one!"

I looked at his intent face staring at the road. For a moment, I felt a stab of guilt. I leaned over and asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"How dark it is and how I hope I don't hit anything," he replied.

"So _not_ about a certain race that you were supposed to participate in and gave up to be with a certain girlfriend for a certain dance," I muttered. At the next red light, he stopped and said, "No."

"Are you _sure?_" I stressed.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Don't you even _think_ about Nitona anymore."

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I just can't believe you did this for me." Just then, the light went back to green, and he turned back to the road. But out of the corner of his eye he glanced at me and said, "You're not just my girlfriend, Trix; you're my _best_ friend. I'd do anything for you."

I gawked at him, utterly in awe, for the rest of the ride. He'd really gotten it right this time. It had never occurred to me how lucky I was before.

"I love you," I whispered.

"What's that?" he asked, still staring into the night.

"Nothing!" I said quickly. Speed and I hadn't even been dating for a year. Any "I love you's" would be illogically premature.

The Mach 5 rolled to a stop. Speed took my hand and said, "We're here. You ready?" I held onto him tightly and took a deep breath. Then I nodded, "Okay. Let's go." He pulled me out of the seat and shut my door.

Hand in hand we walked up the staircase to the gymnasium doors. Speed pushed the left door open and led me inside. My head spun around at breakneck speed to try and register everything so I could remember every detail for the rest of my life.

The gym was positively beautiful. If someone had told me while I was decorating it and nearly breaking my neck that it was going to be so bright and lovely, I would have laughed in their face. The glittered cardboard shone underneath the soft white and blue lights. Mobiles of stars hung from the air and spun around.

"Oh, it's so pretty," I sighed.

"Almost as pretty as you," Speed concurred. I let out a contented sob and threw my arms around him, "Oh, Speed, I don't know how to thank you for bringing me here!" He leaned in to kiss me, until …

"Speed, Trixie!" called Janine Trotter from a table. She ambled over to us and clapped her hands together, "Oh, Trixie, you look so pretty! But I thought you weren't coming!"

"Yeah," said Speed. "Account that to my idiocy." He pointed to himself.

"I'm _so_ going to vote for you two to be Prom Queen and King!" she squealed. "Come on, let's go get punch."

"You mean high fructose corn syrup and red dye number 5," laughed Speed as we followed her to the long, blue draped table. My mouth dropped. I had said that to him all the way back in sophomore year, during the semi-formal.

"You _remember _that?!" I asked.

"Sure," he said. "I laughed every time I saw fruit punch for a week."

"It wasn't _that_ funny," I admitted. He agreed, "I know. But I was just thinking about you a lot then." I grinned from ear to ear.

"Here," he said, offering me a cup of the red concoction. We intertwined arms and took a drink, all the while trying hard not to laugh. When we finished we looked up, only to find Twinkle and Kim, arm in arm, staring at us. Speed gave him a reluctant smile. The two boys were friends, but part of Speed never seemed to forgive Kim for asking me to that semi-formal.

I pulled him away by the arms, "Come on, Speedy, dance with me!"

"Okay," he chuckled. We ran out to the center of the floor. It was a slow song, not unlike the one we danced to those two years ago. Speed placed his left hand around my waist and threaded his right with my left. I put my right hand on his shoulder, and we began shifting our weight from one foot to the other.

"I can't believe I almost missed all of this," I said.

"Why didn't you just tell me you wanted to go?" he asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. I stared at my feet as I mumbled, "I just didn't want to get in the way of your dream." At my words, Speed's hand left my waist and pushed my chin up.

"That is so _insane_," he said. "You could _never_ be in the way." By just his fingertips he pulled my face close to his. The warm lights bathed over us as our lips prepared to touch…

"Ladies and gentlemen!" yelled the class president from a microphone on stage.

"Damn it," growled Speed.

"The time has come to vote for the Prom King and Queen," said the boy. He was rather nerdy, tall and gangly with huge glasses that would have even been un-cool twenty years ago.

Speed and I sat down at a table all alone. He was still shaking his head and mumbling at his failed kiss attempts. I picked up the pink ballot sheet and gasped.

It said: _"Speed Racer and Trixie Shimura_._"_ Not Greg and Patty.

"They changed it!" I exclaimed. Pathetically enough, that made the night even better. Speed picked up the little half-pencil and said, "Come on, let's vote."

"Who do we vote for?" I asked.

"Let's vote for ourselves!" he answered. "False modesty sucks, remember?" That was some _else_ I had told him. I hadn't realized he actually listened to me so closely before.

"Do you really want _Twinkle and Kim_ to win this?" he inquired. I sat up a little taller, "No! I don't!" Speed handed the half-pencil to me. I snatched it from him and put a deep, black, checkmark on 'Speed and Trixie.'

Janine came around, collecting the ballots. Once she saw our selection, she clapped and walked away.

"You don't think we could actually _win_, do you?"

"Why not?" Speed asked in reply.

"That would just make everything too good to be true," I sighed.

Twenty minutes later, the boy came back on the stage. He said into the mike, "Everyone …" But no sound came out. He looked to the stage hand and hissed, "What's wrong with the mike? It was just working!" He looked back at us and yelled "SHUT UP! Okay, I feel the need to say, they've told me they've never had a competition this close in the school's history. Speed and Trixie win, by one vote!!"

"Did he just say our names?" I asked.

"I don't know," he said. "Are you Trixie Shimura? Because I'm pretty sure I'm Speed Racer." A white spotlight came upon us. Speed shielded his eyes by pretending to wave He muttered, "Yeah, we're coming." He offered his hand. I placed mine on top of his, and we seemed to float on air as we walked up to the stage. Janine placed a tiara on my head and a crown on Speed's.

"Congrats, guys," said Janine.

"Yeah, you two look _so_ cute together!" agreed Lily.

"I can't believe this," I said, touching the tiara, making sure it was real. Pink rose petals started to rain upon us.

"When did you guys set _this _up!?" I asked. "No one told me about this!" Speed drew me close and, as the whole school watched and flowers poured over us, he finally touched his lips to mine tenderly.

The gym erupted with cheers and camera flashes.


	11. The Perfect End to a Perfect Night

At about eleven o'clock, after Speed and I had sat at makeshift cardboard "thrones" and waved scepters around and looked like idiots and, at some point, actually _danced_, prom ended, and we were on our way home.

Or so I thought.

Still wearing our little plastic crowns, we went back to the Mach 5. Before he opened my door, I put my hand on his cheek and confessed, "I had _so_ much fun."

"Night's not over yet," he said. But he didn't elaborate, and I was left to wonder what he meant as we slipped into our seats. He turned the key in the ignition and started off again, but in the wrong direction.

"Hey, where are we going?" I asked. "Home is _that_ way!" I pointed behind us.

"Really?" he inquired sarcastically. "I had no idea." He chortled at his own humor and said, "Don't worry, Trixie, it's just another surprise." My mouth dropped. How could this night be any better? I looked into the street. I had this bad feeling that anything else he could try would only mess it up.

"Close your eyes," he requested.

"Why?" I asked.

"Please," he begged. So I shut my eyes and let him continue driving until he told me to open them. I looked around at the budding trees and knew immediately where we were. All the girls at school talked about what they'd done and who they'd like to meet here.

"Gee, you're subtle," I said. "Inspiration Point?"

Speed shrugged, "It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Well…" I said awkwardly, "yeah." The city below was just a pathway of colors and the sky seemed endless from where we sat.

We both leaned back into our seats. Speed looked over to me and asked, "Remember when we were ten and said we'd never come here with anyone?" I pointed at him, nodded, and laughed, "What changed your mind?"

"You did," he said. "I wouldn't come here with anyone else." He shook his head, "Back then I never thought we'd be more than pals. I mean, you were the smartest girl at school and the prettiest in town … and I almost got you blown up."

"Oh, yeah, I remember _that_," I said, recalling the first time he'd brought me home at the age of eight. Long story short; don't trust a man in a '58 Fenderson who says he's a "big fan." Still, completely flattered by his words, I put my hands on my heart and whispered, "I love you."

"What's that?" he asked, clearly having not heard me.

"Nothing!" I said quickly. Speed and I hadn't even been dating for a year. Any "I love you's" would be illogically premature. "I was just saying that this was the best night of my life."

"Ah," he corrected, pointing at me. "You mean best night of your life _so far_." I lifted myself out of my seat and asked, "Does mean there are better ones to come, Mr. Prom King?"

"If I have anything to say about it," he assured me. And I believed him. After all, the whole night proved to me that Speed knew more about relationships than I gave him credit for.

"Come here," I said, pulling him close to me by the shoulders for a kiss.

And that was the first of what I was sure would be _many_ meetings at Inspiration Point.


End file.
